


I Shall Go Home Alone

by fredajohansson, youngavengersbigbang



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredajohansson/pseuds/fredajohansson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngavengersbigbang/pseuds/youngavengersbigbang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no denying the impact that Cassie Lang has had on Kate Bishop's life. Now, if she could just piece said life back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Shall Go Home Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mal_feasant](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mal_feasant).



> **Warnings/Triggers:** Discussion of death and grieving.
> 
>  **Notes:** Here there be spoilers for Children's Crusade and the current run. (And, alas, this is unbetaed, because I am terrible).

For all the self-confidence she eluded, Kate had never had all that many friends. She suspected there were a number of reasons for this: she was stubborn as a bull, had a tendency to be a little bossy. More than that, though, she had a propensity to get on her soapbox: as much as her sister loved her, she could tell that it irritated the shit out of her; it certainly didn’t go down too well at her school. That and she could probably do with learning to be more tactful. But that was fairly low on her list of priorities. 

Sure, it was lonely. But she’d gotten used to it. 

And then she’d met Cassie Lang. 

On paper, the two of them didn’t work. That said, on paper she should have had comfortably blended in with her fellow students, so she was inclined to take that interpretation with a pinch of salt. But she and Cassie had just clicked instantly; there was something about breaking into Avengers Mansion that just created a kind of an unbreakable bond. Even if they’d been thwarted by their eventual teammates and the remnants of the real Avengers. 

Something in her had changed that night: she’d found the purpose she’d been looking for since her mom had died and her life had gone to shit; had found a way to put her desire to protect others to good use. And she didn’t have to do it alone. 

Plus, in their testosterone-heavy team, having someone who could share her female-superhero-related woes was a plus. 

She wasn’t sure she would ever find a friend quite like her again. 

~ ~ ~ 

After they’d defeated Kang – holy _shit,_ they’d defeated Kang – Kate had scribbled her phone number onto Cassie’s hand. The boys might have been willing to throw in the towel, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let what they’d just built die; let what they’d just accomplished become a forgotten memory. No: she was Kate Bishop, and she was fucking stubborn. 

It had only taken a day for Cass to give her a call, which had given Kate more than enough time to formulate a plan. So, two weeks after parting ways at Avengers Mansion, Kate and Cassie found themselves at a diner near Cassie’s home. 

One thing Kate learned about Cass very quickly was that she was a bit of a ketchup fiend. Even if it was incredibly watery and unpleasant-looking. Kate watched with mild horror as Cassie, seemingly unconcerned, poured a sizeable portion onto her plate. 

“I can’t believe you’re eating that,” Kate muttered, watching Cassie dip fry after fry into that red watery mess. 

Cassie snorted. “You can’t have fries without ketchup.” 

“That’s not ketchup. That’s water.” 

“Yes, but it’s tomato-flavoured water.” 

Kate grimaced, reaching over to steal some fries from Cassie’s plate. She herself had just bought a coffee – black, always black – but she felt compelled to save some of them from that thing masquerading as ketchup. 

Well, that, and she was hungry. 

They made some small-talk – the usual stuff: complaining about school – before Kate decided to bite the bullet: “So, I have a proposition for you.” 

Cassie stopped mid-chew. “What?” 

“We keep the Young Avengers going.” 

At that, Cassie almost choked. “Are you insane? You heard what Captain America said: if we ever put on those uniforms again –” 

“– they’ll shut us down, yes, I know,” Kate finished. “But…what if we had different uniforms?” 

Cassie paused. “That’s sneaky.” 

“Sneaky is my middle name.” 

“I don’t know about this.” 

“Think about all the good we could do. We have a great opportunity here; we can’t just let it slip away from us because Captain America threatened to tell our parents.” 

That seemed to strike a chord. Cassie pushed her plate to the side. “Kate, my dad was an Avenger. My mom _hated_ it; she even stopped him from seeing me because of it. If she finds out, she’ll kill me. And if she doesn’t, my stepdad definitely will.” 

This, Kate chided herself, would be an excellent time for those diplomacy skills her mother had kept trying to instil in her to finally materialise. “I can’t imagine my Dad would be too impressed either. But let’s take our parents out of the equation for a minute. What do _you_ want to do?” 

“I want to make my Dad proud.” 

It was hard to live in New York and not know what had happened to Scott Lang. Sure, Cass had talked about him a little as they made their way to Avengers Mansion after the boys had crashed Kate’s sister’s wedding, but she’d been vague. The newspapers, on the other hand, had been far more forthcoming; reading them had left a bitter taste in Kate’s mouth. 

“Your Dad would be proud of you,” Kate assured her. “I mean, look at what you did two weeks ago. Besides, I read an interview with him in a magazine ages ago: the way he talked about you, you could tell he was proud.” 

A wry smile graced Cassie’s mouth. “I think I got kidnapped after that one. Again. But thanks.” 

Kate grimaced. “I don’t have any superpowers. But I still think it’s worthwhile doing this.” 

“Why are you so invested in this?” 

Kate hadn’t been expecting that. Any response her mind tried to formulate died in her throat. 

Cassie put up her hands. “Not that I’m not interested in what you’re suggesting. I’m just curious.” 

Kate's hands clenched around her mug, the heat from the coffee almost burning her fingers. “My mom did a lot of charity and voluntary work. She tried to get my sister and me to do the same, but Susan was never really into it. I loved it, though. It always felt like I was making an impact. Like I was doing some good. After Mom died, I kept going, but it always felt like something was missing. What we did two weeks ago…it was like something clicked.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. 

Cass’s smile was reassuring. “It was, wasn’t it?” 

Kate took a sip of her coffee, attempting to disguise the unexpected feeling of nervousness. “It doesn’t have to be over. Not if we don’t want it to be.” 

Cassie caught her gaze; held it. “I don’t want it to be.” 

“So, are you in?” 

Cass grinned. “I’m so in.” 

~ ~ ~ 

The problem with taking charge of the team, Kate found, was that – in spite of her commanding personality – it filled her with all sorts of worries she hadn’t had in the past. The fears for her team’s safety certainly weren’t new; she had always felt somewhat responsible for that: after all, she was the one who’d proposed that the team continue. No: now, if anything went wrong, it really would be on her shoulders. And whenever they went, trouble seemed to follow, as if it were drawn to teenage drama and hormones. 

Regardless of whether or not she was in charge, however, she’d always worry about Cass. And, at that moment, worrying about Cass was definitely in order. She and Kate had crashed together in Mount Wundagore, the night that Billy had decided to storm Latveria alone. 

The night before she’d died. 

She’d been tense since they’d got there; actually, since they’d busted Billy out of Avengers headquarters. Now, she was picking at the skin around her nails; a habit that, Kate had noticed, always surfaced when she was upset. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“I’m fine.” 

Kate smirked. “Uh-huh. And that’s why you’re attacking your fingers.” 

Cassie scowled; she had never particularly liked the thought that she could be read like an open book. For once, Kate dropped the subject, ignoring the little voice inside her head that always seemed to get her into trouble urging her to press the matter. 

It was only later that night, when both girls were trying – and failing – to sleep, that Cassie spoke: “A part of me really doesn’t want to find the Scarlet Witch.” 

Kate knew better that to respond; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand Cassie’s reluctance, even if she’d been the one insisting that they find Wanda in the first place. Were she in the same position, Kate wasn’t sure she’d want to confront the person responsible for her parent’s death; more than that, the distinct possibility that there was no way to revive her father, as Cass so hoped, was distressing. Instead, she reached behind her to grasp Cassie’s hand and squeeze. In the silence, she felt her softly squeeze back. 

Looking back on it now, Kate wished she’d said something. 

~ ~ ~ 

Change, Kate decided, could be a good thing. If her carefully-crafted sense of control over her life was starting to slip away from her after Cassie’s death, she might as well go with it. At least, that was what she told herself. 

The first step had been to quit the superhero business. Admittedly, that hadn’t just been her: she wasn’t the only Young Avenger to quit, and she certainly wasn’t the first to declare their intention to do so. She’d been undecided when they held that informal meeting, but hearing Eli talk about his regrets and the strength in his decision had cemented it for her. Cassie’s funeral had been the week before: how could she continue to lead this team when she was responsible for two deaths? She might have taken some pride in her non-powered status in the past, but now it just made her feel like a dangerous burden. Done. She was done. 

By the time the remaining members of the Young Avengers had been called to Avengers Mansion, she’d already moved out of her father’s home into an apartment in Midtown – although, admittedly, he was still paying her bills. Still, the increased sense of independence (finances not withstanding) was a welcome change; it made her feel like the mature adult she proclaimed to be, not like the teenager who couldn’t stop making mistakes that she often felt she was. 

A month after she’d been made an honorary Avenger, she’d cut her hair to her shoulders and gotten bangs.  If she looked different, maybe she’d start feeling different as well. 

The whole thing was easier said than done. She was restless: she missed being a superhero; missed her team. But then she’d wake up in the middle of night, unable to shake the image of her best friend’s body from her mind, and be reminded exactly why they’d agreed to throw in the towel. 

Regardless of her vows to herself about avoiding hero work, she still found herself at the range several times a week. She might not have been Hawkeye anymore, but there was still something incredibly comforting about shooting until her hands bled and the callouses forming on her fingers ached. 

It was only after pressing a third Band-Aid into place onto her bleeding fingers that she finally admitted to herself what she’d known deep down since she retired six months before: she needed to get back out there. More than that, Cass would have wanted her to get back out there. She remembered their conversation at the diner way back before they’d convinced the guys to join them; could hear her own reasons for doing this as clearly as if she’d uttered them yesterday. Cass had agreed with her back then; she was lying to herself if she thought she would do any differently now. 

Regardless of everything that had happened, Kate was still that person. 

When she switched on her phone – she always turned it off when she was practising (training, she supposed she should say now) – there was a voicemail waiting. 

“Girly-girl. How ya doin’?” 

Yes. Maybe change would do her some good. 

~ ~ ~ 

This was exactly what she had needed. 

The decision to quit hero work had not been one of her best. Regardless of how good – or misguided, as Clint had bluntly told her – her intentions may have been, it was hard to quash her desire to do some good in the world. Maybe her therapist would have suggested a less drastic means of doing so, but it was what it was. 

Then again, Kate had never particularly been one to listen to authority figures. 

Really, that was how they’d ended up reforming the team in the first place. For a quality that her father had described as not particularly endearing, it was turning out to serve her rather well. 

Working with Clint had reminded her exactly what she loved about the hero business. She felt like she was finally useful; finally accomplishing something again, when she’d spent the months since her retirement feeling strangely hollow. That and she had someone to worry about again, because dear _God_ Clint worried her. 

That said, she had replaced her old costume. 

Sure, there were a number of reasons for this: practicality, for one thing. It would be nice to not have to worry about her unprotected stomach or her scarf getting caught on something: it may have looked fantastic, but – and she was a little loath to admit this – it was completely inappropriate in a heroing situation. Now, it functioned as her winter scarf. Perhaps she should have been a little more concerned about trying to conceal her identity, but let’s be honest: her only means of disguise was a pair of sunglasses. That ship had long sailed. She still had the old costume hidden in her closet, though: it held far too many memories for her to let it go. 

Mainly, however, she was approaching her work with Clint as a new start of sorts. The new costume was still the requisite purple – it would _always_ be purple – but Kate had made enough changes that she was no longer immediately, viscerally reminded of her old team and everything that had gone wrong every time she suited up. 

That didn’t mean it wasn’t constantly in the back of her mind, however. 

~ ~ ~ 

Kate and Teddy hadn’t been the closest members of the team, if she was perfectly honest. Sure, they’d gotten along fine, and she certainly considered him to be a friend; they just hadn’t necessarily been all that alike in temperament. He was a complete sweetheart and she…well. Her therapist had described her as abrasive. 

That said, if she had to choose a living friend to confide in, it would be him. And it would be nice to catch up; she’d missed spending time with him. 

She hadn’t seen as much of him and Billy as she’d have liked after the team disbanded. When left alone with those two and Tommy, she always felt a little like an outsider. Then Billy’s depression had become too much to handle, and – she hated to say this; hated how selfish it sounded to her own ears – she’d had to take a break for her own mental health. 

So it had been a relief that Teddy had answered his phone after the first ring when she called to suggest they meet for coffee. He sounded so happy to hear from her that she’d felt so guilty for her lapse in contact. 

They met in a diner near Times Square, somewhere busy and loud enough that their conversation would be buried in the din. Somewhere they wouldn’t immediately stick out. Teddy had gotten there before her, and was already sitting in a booth when she entered. He enveloped her in a bear hug the minute he saw her. “Good to see you, Kate.” 

She’d never been much of a hugger – Cassie had; a small twinge in her stomach – but she’d missed this. “You, too. It’s been far too long.” 

Teddy looked downright exhausted as he picked the lettuce off his burger. She sipped her coffee, staring over the rim of the mug at him. It would appear that he had also latched on to the mantra of ‘change is good.’ Gone were the cuffs dotting their way up his ears, replaced by a simple plug in each earlobe. He had changed his hair as well, although that was less surprising. After all, she’d given her own somewhat of a makeover. 

She took another sip, the liquid so hot it scalded her tongue. “So, how’s Billy? He’s not really been answering my texts.” 

Teddy sighed. She had never seen him look so miserable. “He won’t talk about it. He won’t talk about _anything._ He’s a mess. I don’t know what to do, Kate.” 

Kate reached across the table to cover Teddy’s hand with her own. “Give him time. He’ll open up eventually.” 

Teddy nodded, his smile a little forced – God, he seemed so _sad –_ before rapidly changing the subject. “So what have you been up these last few months?” 

Kate pursed her lips, placing her mug back on the table. No time like the present. 

“So, here’s the thing,” she said. “I’ve been doing hero work with Clint.” 

Teddy looked at her softly, like this came as no surprise to him. Which really shouldn’t have shocked her: Teddy always had been very quietly perceptive; that he knew she would do this was somewhat comforting. “I always thought you’d go back to it sooner or later. Mostly sooner.” 

“You’re not mad? I mean, I quit the team.” 

“So did I, remember? Besides, from what I’ve been told about Clint, he could probably do with someone keeping an eye on him.” 

Kate snorted. “Oh my god, Teddy, you have no idea. Just don’t tell Billy.” She massaged her temples. “I know this is a bit of a sensitive subject for him.” 

Something flashed across Teddy’s face. Guilt? “Don’t worry.” He swallowed, like he was trying to dislodge a lump in his throat. “I’ve, um, been doing a little heroing of my own.” 

Now _that_ surprised her. Although, again, she should really have expected this: she had always been aware that he’d only quit to support Billy; that he’d been itching to continue. She, on the other hand, had wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and forget everything that had happened since they’d decided to search for Wanda; forget everything that she was to blame for. 

She reached over and pinched some of the discarded lettuce from his plate. “So, how long have you been back?” 

He sighed. “A few months. I missed it too much. Felt like I was living a lie.” 

He almost sounded like her. 

Kate leaned back in her seat. “Billy’ll come round eventually. He just needs some time.” 

Teddy sighed again. “I don’t know, Kate. He’s just so opposed to doing this – to _any_ of us doing this – I don’t think he’ll ever be okay with it.” 

“He will be.” 

~ ~ ~ 

When Kate had awoken on Noh-Varr’s ship and remembered the events of the previous night, her first thought – after a smug self-congratulation – had been to text Cassie and gush about what had happened, before her brain caught up with her and she remembered. 

She and Cass had often had long discussions about their relationships; about the confusion Cass felt regarding Jonas, and the mess that was Kate’s relationships with Eli and Tommy – much as she tried to deny any attraction to either of them, Cass had always been able to see right through it. And sure, she could text Billy or Teddy – which she did, after she and Noh-Varr had eluded their Skrull pursuers – but it just wasn’t quite the same. Much as she might enjoy the discussions she and Billy had about their love lives, his relationship with Teddy had always seemed so stable. Not that she begrudged the two boys their happiness, but he was less able to empathise with the train-wreck that was her relationships. Nor had he ever really been able to provide her with any form of sound advice regarding said messy love life. 

Looking back on it now, it was increasingly apparent that she or Cass hadn’t been particularly wise regarding relationship advice themselves – hey, they were young and naïve – but it was the principle behind it. 

Instead, she sent a quick text to Cassie’s phone – ‘ _miss u giant-girl’ –_ having to swallow back the twinge in her stomach when the message bounced back due to a full inbox. 

She’d sent Cass a lot of messages in the days after her death. It wasn’t unlike people leaving messages on dead friends’ Facebook pages, she reasoned; this was just a little more private. That and it helped her retain a shred of her composure; as long as she could still do this, there was nothing wrong. The illusion was always ruined when Cass didn’t reply. 

She still kept some of the messages Cassie had sent her on her phone: mostly silly things, like Cass grumbling about leftovers, or those lolcats that she and Billy had liked to trade back and forth. One, though, had been sent in the midst of the Superhuman Registration Act fiasco, when Cass had not been operating as part of the Young Avengers: _I miss u xxx._

After Cassie’s death, Kate had found herself scrolling through these old messages – although, admittedly, she’d been so upset it had been hard to read them through her tears – when she’d stumbled across that one. Part of her had wanted to delete it: it had been too painful to read when she still felt Cassie’s absence as if it were a deep wound. Now it was comforting more than anything else. 

She could almost imagine what Cass might have said regarding her extra-terrestrial one night stand: the text equivalent of an excited squeal and a joke about using protection. Which would probably have turned into an honest to God mock lecture about contraception when she’d returned: Cass had been waiting for the opportunity to give her one ever since Kate had given her a book about the birds and the bees for her sixteenth birthday, in honor of her blossoming relationship with Jonas. Cassie had lobbed the book at her head after she’d made a joke about robot babies. 

She was a little sad that’d she'd never get to experience Cass’s revenge. 

~ ~ ~ 

Taking up the Hawkeye identity again presented Kate with a new problem: she may have loved and missed hero work, but –realistically – she wasn’t sure how well she could manage by herself. Her time in this profession had taught her that, as a woman without any powers, she was at a slight disadvantage. Besides, the best part about being a Young Avenger had been about being part of a team. So, when she found herself caught up in Billy’s magical mishap – to put it lightly – there was a part of her that was thrilled to be operating as part of a group, even if it did pile the worries that had plagued her when was leading the old team back onto her shoulders. She may not have been the team’s official leader, but she still felt fully responsible for her teammates. 

This new team was certainly interesting – and that was a fairly mild way of putting it – but she was painfully aware of the gaps. She knew it wasn’t just her: after all, there were reasons that she and Teddy had vowed to hide their hero work from Billy. That said, they’d fallen into a comfortable – and at times achingly familiar – rapport, even if she didn’t trust Loki as far as she could throw him. Then Tommy had been spirited away by someone – or some _thing –_ masquerading as Eli, and they’d found themselves hopping across dimensions in a quest to get him back. Which had caused some unforeseen problems; well, it had for her, at least. 

The problem with the multiverse, Kate was beginning to find, was the infinite possibilities. Sure, it could be interesting – or incredibly disturbing: dear God, those _rabbits_ – but more often than not it was just downright unsettling. 

She hadn’t been sleeping very well; none of them had. Most of her insomnia could be blamed on the disturbing things they’d witnessed, but there was a niggling unease in the back of her mind when she thought of the different versions of themselves they’d encountered. Hers, ironically, were the least disturbing: the chances of her actually turning into a harpy or a Nazi were so remote they were almost laughable, not that those images hadn’t shaken her. 

Rather, it was the warped images of those she knew that stopped sleep from coming. 

They’d encountered a very-much-alive Cassie Lang on their interdimensional travels – actually, they’d encountered several, many of whom she’d quite like to forget. There was one alternate-Cassie in particular that she would have trouble erasing from her memory: she had recognised them immediately, before near-enough unhinging her jaw in an attempt to swallow them whole. Ah, the horror of infinite possibilities. She could only hope they didn’t encounter a universe where they hadn’t gone on a quest to find Wanda; where the team as they had been was still whole. 

Kate had been trying to sleep for what felt like the past two hours. Noh-Varr was snoring quietly next to her, an arm slung across her stomach. She edged out gently from underneath him; if she hadn’t fallen asleep by now, she suspected she wasn’t going to. 

It was Teddy’s turn to be on watch. He spun round as she approached him, his stance indicating he was fully ready to attack. She raised her hands. “Whoa, there. It’s just me.” 

Teddy breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

She sat down next to him on the rooftop where they’d made camp, gazing out at the strange night sky: this one had an odd pink tinge to it. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of an unfamiliar night, before Kate spoke: “Dimension-hopping isn’t all that different from time travel when you really get down to it, is it? They’re both batshit weird.” 

Teddy chuckled. “I don’t know, Kate. I don’t remember there being any killer bunnies when we time-travelled.” He glanced over at her. “Can’t sleep?” 

“Nope. Too freaked out.” 

“Still thinking about…I want to call it Cannibal Cass, but that seems a little insensitive?” 

“How did you guess?” Kate fidgeted with her hair; a nervous habit. It would seem Cassie had rubbed off on her a little; she’d never been particularly fidgety before they’d met. “Shit, Ted. I miss Cassie.” 

The vaguely heartbroken look that passed over Teddy’s face was one she hoped never to see again. God, she hated pity. He reached over, and laid his hand on hers. “Kate, you can’t keep blaming yourself. Nothing you could have done -” 

“- I know. I know.” And the rational part of her did; the irrational – and larger – part, on the other hand, was wont to invade her thoughts without warning and remind her of everything she’d allowed to go wrong. 

“You know as well as I do that Cass wouldn’t have wanted us to quit. And she wouldn’t want you to feel guilty.” 

“I don’t.” A lie. 

Teddy’s silence spoke volumes. But, much to Kate’s gratitude, he didn’t push the matter further. He’d always tried to avoid confrontation. See? Complete opposites: she’d always liked to get things out in the open. Now, though, she was immensely grateful that she didn’t have to dig through those feelings. 

She took a look at him then; a long, hard look. He looked exhausted; far more exhausted than these past few weeks of dimension hopping should have merited. Yes, they were all tired. But this was something else. 

“Are you okay?” 

Teddy turned to look at her, slight panic forming in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

She didn’t believe him, but let it slide. After all, he’d extended her the same courtesy. 

~ ~ ~ 

She woke the morning after returning to New York with a sense of determination. 

They’d crashed at their old lair; Billy and Teddy hadn’t wanted to go back to the Kaplans’ until they were absolutely sure it was safe; at the very least, they’d wanted to wait one night to be certain. Her own father was on that sailing trip around the world; there’d be no-one at home to miss her. The others didn’t really have a home to go to. 

It was amazing, really, that the building was still standing. It was perhaps more amazing that it still officially remained unoccupied. Almost everything they had left behind before going to search for the Scarlet Witch was still there: it was both comforting and distressing. In the weeks after they’d disbanded, Kate had returned and removed most of Cassie’s belongings, save for a few items; she figured Scott would appreciate them. She hadn’t quite been prepared for how grateful he was for them, or for the force of his grief. 

However, there were a few things she’d kept: photos of Cassie with her teammates; a strip of photos of the two of them taken in a photo booth after they’d ingested more caffeine than was wise; a red and black woven bracelet that she’d given Cass for her birthday. She wore it from time to time, when the hole that Cassie had left in her life seemed to swallow her whole. 

It had been a little odd returning there as a team, seeing remnants of the old team left behind. If there newer members of the team had noticed the trinkets and mementos that remained, and the melancholia that settled over her and Billy in particular – and she was sure David had, perceptive as he was – they didn’t comment. 

Yet it had been nice, in a nostalgic way. Sure, the mix of personalities was vastly different, but sitting on the floor eating pizza – not noodles for a change – with her teammates was like coming home. 

Now, though, there was something she needed to do. 

America was asleep on the sofa when Kate entered what functioned as their living room. Last night’s leftover pizza was still lying in its box on the table; they’d ordered from the same place they had when Cassie had been so guilt-ridden over injuring her stepfather that she’d almost shrunk into nothingness. In spite of the comforting familiarity, it had been an oddly bittersweet meal. 

She had always felt a little like the team mother, due in part to being the oldest member of the team in both its incarnations and in part to an overwhelming urge to make sure they were safe. This was a little reminiscent of how things used to be. She stood in the door for a moment, watching, until America’s voice drifted over from the sofa. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

Okay, apparently she wasn’t quite as asleep as Kate had thought. 

“Sorry, sorry. Was just thinking.” 

America grunted, before rolling over and pulling a cushion over her head. She was not a morning person. “The fuck are you doing up, anyway?” 

Kate frowned, and checked her watch. Okay, it had only just gone 6am: she could understand why America was grumpy. “I’ve got something I need to do. I’m just heading out for a bit; won’t be long.” 

“Close the door gently, princess. Trying to sleep over here.” 

~ ~ ~ 

Cemeteries had always made Kate a little uncomfortable. When her grandmother had died when was five, she’d stood next to the grave clutching her mother’s hand, unable to fully comprehend why they were lowering her grandmother into the ground. Despite the understanding that had come with age, she had never quite been able to shake the discomfort born of her childhood confusion. 

Then her mother had died, and her dislike had only multiplied. 

Cassie’s funeral had been particularly unpleasant. It had felt like everyone was staring at her; that everyone _knew_ it was her fault. Then she’d looked up, and met Cassie’s mother’s eyes, and saw the blame written in them clear as day. She’d hung back after that, not wanting to upset her family further. Even though Scott had told her he didn’t blame any of them for what had happened, she’d still felt like she was intruding. 

At 7am, though, the cemetery was quiet, the morning dew still glistening on the ground. There was a peace to the place. Her feet moved along the path of their own accord; she’d been there often enough that she could find her way to Cass’s grave in her sleep. At this time in the morning, she was Cass’s only visitor. 

The grass was damp beneath her feet. How long had it been since she’d been here? 

She’d stopped coming quite as often after she’d run into Cassie’s mother, who’d asked what right she had to be there when she was the reason Cassie was dead; she was less than keen to run into her again. And then she’d gone to LA to get away from Clint’s clusterfuck of a life, and there’d been the thing with Tommy. 

It had been longer than she’d have liked. 

The dew soaked into her jeans as she knelt in front of the grave. 

“Hey, Cass.” 

She always felt ridiculously self-conscious doing this, no matter how often she did it. 

She’d come here after she’d first began collaborating with Clint. Sure, Teddy knew what she’d been up to, but he was too much of a sweetheart for her to want to subject him to her ranting about how she sometimes felt like Clint’s babysitter. Billy was a no-no; no-one wanted to provoke that particular bomb. Her sister was out of the question, too: she loved her, but she was trying to keep up some semblance of a secret identity. It was times like these she really missed Cassie - well, that was a lie: she always missed her. So she’d gone to the cemetery: it would be nice to talk to someone who understood, even if she knew she wouldn’t get any response. She’d sat in front of Cass’s grave and complained for an hour about Clint’s inability to manage his life. 

As self-conscious as it might make her feel, it was certainly comforting. 

“So, uh, the team’s back together. Well, not back together as such. I mean, you’re not there. The Vision’s not there.” She was rambling. This had been a problem since she was a kid: Katie Motormouth, her sister used to call her. 

“I miss you.” Wherever Cass was, Kate was pretty sure that she knew this, but saying it aloud was somewhat cathartic. “I miss you so much. It’s not the same.” True, she loved and valued her team and everyone who’d ever been a member – okay, maybe with the exception of Loki – but she could see the gap that Cassie had left. She suspected that she always would. 

The wind picked up behind her, whistling through the trees and blowing leaves in shades of autumn onto the headstone. 

Kate snorted. “You trying to tell me something, Cass? That your blessing?” She toyed with a stray thread on the hem of her jeans. “You will not believe what’s happened over the past few months; I'm telling you, you could not make this shit up.” 

She stayed until the skies opened above her, and the rain soaked her to the skin. 

~ ~ ~ 

Teddy was sitting on the sofa when she returned. He had appropriate the games console: he, Billy and Eli had insisted that they had to have one in their HQ, although she hadn’t necessarily seen the appeal. That said, it had been incredibly stress-relieving to beat the crap out of your teammates virtually when they’d pissed you off. She and Eli had ended up in that situation more times than was probably healthy. 

That they’d felt the need to buy a superhero game featuring people they’d fought beside was a little bizarre, although admittedly it was quite amusing to play as a virtual Clint Barton. It even shared the real one’s propensity for crashing through windows. 

This morning, Teddy was playing as Thor. She stood behind the sofa and watched for a couple of minutes, before Teddy paused the game and turned to face her. He raised an eyebrow at the puddle of water forming at her feet. “Hey, soggy. You alright?” 

The smile that crossed her face was small; a little forced. She reached out to straighten a framed photograph of the seven members of the old team that hung near the door. Perhaps she would always carry the guilt of Cassie’s death with her; perhaps she would never stop missing the girl that had been her best friend. But maybe that was okay; maybe, one day, she’d learn to forgive herself. 

“I think I will be.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **End Notes:** Title is from [Now The Guns Have Stopped](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KrTAswhrsE) from Karl Jenkins' _The Armed Man_ (and one day I'll be able to listen to it without wanting to cry).


End file.
